Rainy day in Bogota

Rainy day in Bogota 28Apr2013

Another amazing day in Colombia began a bit after 0600 with the usual car alarms, street noise, and an unusual clear blue sunrise.  By 0830 it was time to ‘missionary up’ and head for our 0900 meeting at barrio Nogal, a  brisk 15 minute walk from our casa.  Cyclovia was in full force with pedestrians, all flavors of bicycle riders from near-pro to bimbo-seated retros, and Sunday morning traffic. The dog walkers were of similar variety, and  the casual pace of life was evident on the streets.  There were more people on the pedestrian side of the Septima than in the traffic lanes and near-empty busetas. 

       We arrived at the chapel with two minutes to spare.  Of note is the attendance MO in Latin wards:  meetings are usually started punctually at the published time, but attendance is sparse until ten or fifteen minutes later, maxing out by 30 minutes.  In other words, almost all the seats are available until 10 minutes or so after the meeting gets started, and if we arrive close to the start time it looks like we are courteously early.

       The translation radios were in the shop so the meeting was presented in Spanish and ‘car ad’ speedy English so those needing translation could get a handle on the meeting.  No pianist was available so the assigned music leader passed to another who could lead the singing without accompaniment.  Then it was on to the remaining meetings in the block.  The visiting stake officer (who recognized me from our last mission here) tried to get me introduced as a newbie in priesthood meeting, but was overruled since I had been there more and more recently than he.

       As we were departing the chapel at noon the first few gentle drops of rain began to fall.  After a hundred yards walking the umbrella was deployed, and by another hundred yards it was shedding water like a shower.  The pedestrian traffic cleared almost immediately.  An occasional cyclist demonstrated remarkable tenacity by forging ahead thru the downpour.  Adjusting the umbrella optimally to keep our top half dry put the excess water into the wind at our backs and then onto our legs, thence overflowing from our shoes.  Everyone else on the street was hunkered down in a doorway or under an eve as we ‘swam’ along the Septima.  Rainwash from driveways was a one to two inch river the width of the driveway gates, and overflow spouts from walls and flower beds filled the three and four inch drain tiles. 

       The walk from the chapel to casa is a fat kilometer.  Dona and I enjoyed the least-crowded stroll along the walkways ever. No dogs, and hardly any traffic. The other walkers had left for shelter or boarded buses or taxis…and on we walked, the water gushing from our shoes and the umbrella inverting only twice during our rain bath.  We enjoyed it immensely because we knew it would only last a few minutes, but thought empathetically of the youth missionaries out there in the rest of our area who perhaps didn’t have the option of a nearby apartment where dry clothes awaited.

       Our portero grinned at our condition when we arrived home.  No need to check our shoes, as they had already been thoroughly washed.  The elevator was still not working so we arrived breathless to the 6^th floor.  Off came our soaked shoes, then we wrung out our socks and went for a change of dry clothes.  Our predecessor had made a pvc shoe dryer motored with a computer fan which was quickly mounted with our soaked shoes.

 

       Dry again, we smiled about the weather and watched as the rain pounded the windows, the roof and overflowed the planter boxes on the patio.  It was nice to be inside, and even nicer that our wet roof did not leak a single drop in the course of the ‘water test’ provided by others.

       Then it was on to our first attempt at ajiaco.  Dona allowed me to peel 7 pounds or so of potatoes, the largest of which was tennis ball size and the smallest golf ball size.  No, this is not a sports event, but the peeler presented its own challenges, so it was nevertheless a competition of sorts.  As it turns out, we have a nice soup pot to use and a wonderful gourmet soup chef who actually lives in the same apartment, so the ajiaco turned out good enough that our portero offered liberal compliments and a thumbs up for the ‘gringo’ version of the local famous soup, a bowl of which was taken down to him six floors below. 

       The rest of the afternoon involved emails, photo reviews, skype calls, and computering sufficient to drive us out of the apartment for a short walk in the now-clear weather just before dark.  The sunset was beautiful and then onto more computer work and Colombian hot chocolate and homemade sourdough for our evening meal. 

The shoes should be dry by morning.